Hey, Soul Seer
by AquaEclipse
Summary: Instead of beings, I saw colours. The auras of beings - mortals, demigods, deities, monsters, etc. I wasn't a fighter. I didn't know who my godly parent was. But this did not stop me from witnessing the Revolution of a Lifetime. An OC-centric fic where the OC could see the 'souls' of beings in the forms of colours. Rated for canonical elements. Cross-posted to AO3. First PJO fic.


**This was originally an unnamed OC fic, but turned into a You Can Put Your Shoes Into This OC Directly fic because it turned first-person.**

**I swear this kind of came out of nowhere.**

**I hope you enjoy my first PJO-verse fic - I'm not so good at these, as it has turned out.**

* * *

Ever since I was a child, I had been able to see not someone normal could see.

No, people had always called me an oddball, for I saw, instead of normal people, shapes of hues of every shade and tint.

Most of them were close to white.

They called me crazy. I embraced it.

* * *

I was at a camp where children and teenagers dressed in orange shirts - not that I could see us wear them, but that's what my cabin-mates said they were, so I took their word for it - laughed and played, and fought with vigour to their last breaths.

I had been there for months. My eyes swept over pages and pages of books, trying to decipher my parentage, for apparently, I was a child of the Greek deities (or at least, one of them), and I _belonged_ here.

But no one was like me.

The others knew how to fight, manipulate, create, unleash forces of nature, heal; but all I could do was see the unchanging colours of the campers.

I was only there for a few months when three came racing over Half-Blood Hill, with dozens of monsters in pursuit. A "blond" boy, electric blue. A young girl, stormy grey. A "dark-haired" girl, whose silvery blue aura flickered and materialized, though weakly it remained, into a 'pine' tree on the threshold of camp.

The years passed. I grew, and along came a revolution for the ages.

* * *

The revolution began when a satyr was carried by a preteen over the boundary - a deep turquoise. I saw him in the Hermes Cabin, unclaimed, but it was _painfully _obvious who his godly parent was, but no, they _had_ to turn their heads into the sand that oaths _could_ be broken, until the trident claiming mark appeared above his head. Despite appearing scared, uncertain at first, I knew he was capable of great things, and would be one of the most important demigods to set foot in camp, in the era.

About a week later, the constant, electric presence of Luke Castellan left the camp behind, leaving only a poisoned hero, blue-green flickering away but eventually stabilizing. It was odd, my eye twitched, but it was fine.

The next summer, the silvery blue aura around Thalia's pine flickered, and began to fade. More had left the camp, especially from the Hermes Cabin - the unclaimed, the 'unwanted', the abandoned children whose parents were not recognized as 'important', not Olympians; and even some of the claimed ones who had thought that their parents had no hearts.

They had a point. Who, pray tell, was I?

But did they have to _betray_ the camp to... apparently, the Crooked One? I doubted it, and thus I stayed.

The Ares girl, Clarisse - rough and stony - returned with the blinding, white-gold presence of the Golden Fleece. And the silvery blue began restoration.

Restoration, indeed, as the tree was enveloped in a brilliant flash of silvery blue and no longer glowed that colour, for it was a fifteen-year-old girl that took the hue as her own.

* * *

Winter came. Silver invaded the camp, in the form of the Hunters of Artemis. Brilliant gold came with them, in the form of Lord Apollo (like how Lord Dionysus "Mr. D" was a deep, rich purple, and Chiron - ), then departed. With Thalia, Grover and Percy were two unfamiliar people. (I noted how Annabeth was missing from the group, oh boy, how would they explain _this_ one...) One was part of the Hunters, a twelve-year-old girl, and the other most likely her younger brother. Both were a dark, unfamiliar black-ish shade (the sister was silvery, though)... definitely not children of the Twelve.

I did not pause to wonder why both seemed so... aged.

I _did_ pause to ponder why the younger brother, so very energetic and cheery, would have such a dark colour, like obsidian (_used for extremely sharp blades in the olden days, but also brittle_, my mind helpfully provided as the thought of the mineral-like rock).

A week later, the child was informed that his sister did not survive the quest to save Lady Artemis. Skeletons were summoned and destroyed. He fled. _Damn foreshadowing, 'brittle'._

* * *

Summer came. The camp was under attack.

I grabbed a shovel and smacked a Scythian Dracaena upside the head, just as another camper - _soft, sunset_ orange - sliced it into dust with a sword. I wasn't much of a fighter either. If this were a war, I'd need to know how to fight as well...

Grover created Panic - _the green of summer leaves, beautiful_. The Labyrinth - _dark, ominous bronze_ \- faded with 'Quintus' (even more arachic than Lord Hades' children, a _sharp_ bronze).

This was a war.

Lives were lost.

And I needed to learn to fight if I wanted to get out of this mess alive.

* * *

The war came the following summer. Darkness swarmed the streets of the Big Apple.

A single throwing knife hit a Telekhine - the _evil_ sort of black, like all monsters - in the stomach. I was aiming for the chest or the head, but that was good enough for me, for I wasn't a fighter, after all, and I knew my duty was not, at all, to combat to my last breath.

Stormy grey flickered, but eventually became stable. Shadowed blackness emerged near the end, a familiar obsidian leading the charge against gold (nothing like Lord Apollo's, this was cold and not at all relaxingly warm) - _oddly_ \- entwined with electric blue.

Two days later, the Empire State Building shone blue. The war was won, but at a cost. As all wars are.

* * *

Deep turquoise disappeared from camp.

Then came sky blue, russet brown (like autumn/fall leaves) and flaming orange.

The second Great Prophecy had begun.

* * *

We were surrounded by more colours, some lighter - _more mortal, not quite as divine_ \- than the colours I had become familiar with. (Apparently, they were legacies, _descendants_ of demigods, and _oh my gods, Romans could start their families in peace?!_)

The Romans were invading.

I had knives but I didn't want to use them.

I'd always been a pacifist type anyway.

* * *

I could sense the presence of the Seven Plus, occasionally. Oftentimes at night, as though in a dream.

But then, eventually - _just before the Romans were to begin the final battle_ \- returned obsidian (but clouded with unforgiving, dark blood-red, that I decided not to question), and a newer girl of regal purple (like how the girl's name meant 'queen').

The Athena Parthenos was beautiful. It was grey, like the goddess that she symbolized and proclaimed the glory of (and the metallic, golden force of Nike), but was a silvery sort, of power and sleek strength, and oh so -

The earth rumbled. The ground beneath me was glowing a harsh, deep green - _but still a natural colour, what the heck, is this Gaea -_

And the Seven arrived. Deep turquoise and storm (too clouded with blood-red, I was starting to get suspicious), sky blue, russet, unfamiliar brown, unfamiliar caramel (also golden, in a sense). Leo was missing, but -

And _then_ Leo arrived. Flaming orange with bronze -

The battle was quick. He was there for minutes, and then he was _gone_, and so was Festus and Gaea and _why was Octavian (a pale, sickening shade of deep yellow, like disgust and hatred and a bit like vomit) being flung into the flash -_

* * *

It was over.

But the Spirit of Delphi (familiar, mystical green) surrounding Rachel (pale purple) was gone.

Campers were going missing again.

Then Lord Apollo arrived, approximately six months later. The gold was faded and tarnished. Fallen.

Along with Meg, an intense leaf-green.

A while later, a mass 'Colossus', a disgusting rendition of Lord Apollo's gold (and a miserable failure, since it more resembled Kronos gold).

_Then_ Leo returned on Festus with an ex-Titaness Calypso (serene, baby blue) in tow.

It was a headache to behold. I thought it was over. But as I re-shealthed my blades and wondered, once again, who I was, I knew it was time for the third war of a lifetime.

* * *

**The auras represent the 'souls' of an individual. The colours often dictate parentage and personality, while mortals are close to white due to a lack of divine blood. (Monsters are 'evil' black, but black does not always equate evil, obviously.) And I suppose you can assume what the blood-red cloud symbolizes.**

**Look, I've only read up until _The Hidden Oracle_, so I'm dreadfully sorry that I cannot continue further.**

**I hope you enjoyed this, even though I'm quite sure this isn't my best work. Please leave a little feedback.**


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